


Take Me Back to the Start

by paradiamond



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-03 06:53:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1735250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradiamond/pseuds/paradiamond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal has been caught and Frederick can finally stop hiding at Will's house. Now separated from each other, Will and Frederick aren't as happy as they should be with the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drifting

_Then._

_Will wakes up all at once, like always, immediately coming back to reality. The first thing he notices is the fact that he’s being held down by the weight of Frederick Chilton, who at some point during the night had apparently migrated over to lay on top of him from the other side of the bed._

_Will smirks and strokes a hand through the other man’s hair. It’s getting long after so many weeks of him being in hiding. Will pulls the strands through his fingers slowly, measuring._

_Frederick stirs under his hands, starting to wake. He always woke up slowly, in stages._

_Any awkwardness Will had felt about being intimate with Frederick in this way had long melted away. Physically, sexually…Frederick had become his new anchor, and Will suspected that he had become Frederick’s outlet._

_Frederick stirs, rubbing his face into Will’s chest. “Uh- morning?”_

_“Yeah.” Will tugs on his hair, prompting Frederick to try to swat his hands away._

_“Stop it...” he mumbles, scrunching up his face. Will rolls his eyes, and slides his leg into the gap between Frederick’s, coming into contact with rigid, unambiguous heat._

_“What if I give you an incentive?” Will asks, going for playful. He doesn’t know why, but somehow with Frederick he’s confident, more likely to initiate. Maybe it’s because he knows Frederick won’t leave, can’t leave, because he’s still a fugitive. Maybe that’s a terrible and destructive motivation. Maybe it doesn’t matter._

_He slides his thigh again, and this time Frederick, who was always more likely to wake up hard, moans and cranes his head to look at Will. “I could be convinced.”_

_Will shifts, pushing and guiding Frederick to lay on his back, hovering over him. Frederick stares up at him avidly, though he doesn’t make an effort to help. They’re both still naked from last night, and Will’s pretty sure he might even be ready, but he doesn’t want to risk it. He needs his body as functional as he can get it for what he does when he’s not at home._

_Frederick reaches over to retrieve the lube, handing it Will and smirking while he prepares himself. Will just focuses on the feeling, confidant that he can wipe the smug look off his face._

_He does, reaching down to stroke Frederick’s cock, slicking it up before he sinks down onto it, slowly. Frederick closes his eyes, tipping his head and arching his back. It’s Will’s turn to smirk. “Always so sensitive.”_

_“Don’t think I can’t feel you shaking Will,” Frederick grinds out as Will starts to move, finally sliding his hands up Will’s legs to rest on his hips, feeling the motions of Will fucking himself onto his cock._

_Will doesn’t answer, focusing on the slide inside him, the burn in his thighs. He can feel it pulsing inside him every time he bottoms out, and he gasps when Frederick shifts and his cock brushes against his prostate._

_“Ah- there-” he breathes, and Frederick’s hands tighten on his hips as he meets Will’s thrusts, he manages to start hitting it consistently, and Will feels his legs start to shake in earnest, electric pleasure rolling through him._

_Frederick capitalizes on it by sliding a hand to Will’s cock and stroking it, rubbing his thumb over his slit and-_

_Will comes all over Frederick’s stomach and part of his chest, somehow managing to stay upright. For a few seconds, he just stays there, breathing hard with his mind blissfully blank. Then Frederick shifts underneath, inside him, and Will looks up._

_Frederick looks almost pained, mouth set in a hard line. “You can just-”_

_“No,” Will gasps out, starting to move again, slowly, just rocking his hips. Frederick inhales sharply and reattaches his hands to Will’s hips, guiding him now. Will speeds up, eager to make Frederick come, and is quickly rewarded by the sight of him going rigid, his grasp on Wil’s hips bordering on painful as he comes._

_Wills rides him through it, loving the power, and kisses his neck as he comes down from the high._

***

Now.

With Hannibal gone, finally locked away in the Baltimore State Institute for the Criminally Insane, Will feels...adrift. Cut loose. He’s not employed, not even unofficially anymore. Jack hasn’t called him with a case in weeks, probably because he finally decided that keeping Will around really was too risky, now that he no longer needs him to catch the Ripper. Surely the FBI must have encouraged him to cut contact, they never approved in the first place. They haven’t even called him for teaching. 

Will hasn’t seen or heard from anyone in the FBI since Hannibal went behind bars. “So much for trauma bringing people together,” Will mutters, determinedly not thinking about another certain individual he had incorrectly assumed himself to be close to. 

Will snorts and takes another drink of the whiskey he’s been nursing for the past hour, sitting with his feet up on the railing of the porch. 

“What do you think Winston?” he asks, looking down at the door at his feet. “Should we move?” 

Luckily for Will’s admittedly fragile sanity, Winston does not respond. 

He _should_ move. Pack up what few worthy belongs he had and ship out. Somewhere so different as to allow for totally new associations. Maybe warmer. He optimistically pictures himself in Arizona, the dogs running around and getting sandy instead of muddy. He could be some kind of...park ranger. Work for the forest service. Or something. 

Will sighs and thinks about getting to his feet, but he doesn’t. He’s had too much to drink to go fishing, but not enough to really enjoy himself. Maybe a bit too much to drive. 

Not that there’s anywhere he wants to go. The last time he had ‘gone out’ he ended up listening to a forty-something accountant cry over that fact that _he_ was having an affair, for two hours. Part of Will was fascinated with the trivial subject matter of the man’s problems. Maybe even jealous. 

“Although,” Will drawled, flipping over his phone. “I could stir up some triviality of my own, huh Winston? Be the pathetic ex-lover that drunk calls him at work in the middle of the day.” 

He makes himself laugh just thinking about it, picturing Frederick trying to ignore the phone, maybe in the middle of some meeting, and leans back in the rocking chair, letting it all out until he hits a note of the hysterical and has to catch his breath. 

“Ah, shit,” he says, wiping at the corners of his eyes. 

He stares out towards the trees. No one around for miles and miles. It’s still comforting, being so secluded, but he got used to living with another person. Having another person depend on him. Now he’s just sitting around, unemployed, getting day drunk on whiskey and talking to his dogs. 

He should feel more motivated to put his life back together. He’s not that old, he has time to make something of his existence that isn’t in response to the manipulations of a serial killer. 

He wonders what Frederick is doing. If he’s adjusting well to life as a free man. Then he determinedly stops wondering. 

He runs a hand over his face and closes his eyes. 

“I think catching Hannibal Lecter was my life’s work,” he says, to no one in particular. 

***

_“So,” Will says, his hand braced against Frederick’s chest, not pushing him away but not pulling him close either. “This is surprise.”_

_“A good one, I hope,” Frederick breathes, into the other man’s mouth. After a moment of hesitation Will presses his lips against Frederick’s, returning the kiss. Will’s tongue traces the seam of his lips, and Frederick shivers. He opens up to him, allowing his to press inside, and Will wraps a hand around the back of his neck, holding him in place. They’re sitting on Will’s bed, so close that Will might as well be sitting Frederick’s lap._

_Frederick takes the opportunity to work at the buttons of Will’s shirt, inching his hand downward, slowly, caressing. He’s been thinking about this for days, and the sudden reality is overwhelming. He just hopes that Will can’t feel him shaking._

_Will breaks the kiss, and moves, shifting so that his legs are bracketing both of Frederick’s thighs. Frederick shifts to accommodate him. He settles himself, bringing himself into direct contact with Frederick’s erection._

_“Christ-” Frederick grinds out, and slides his hands down Will’s back until he’s stroking his firm ass, and rolls his hips up into Will’s, trying to be convincing. He doesn’t know if he can take it if Will doesn’t take him up on this offer. The sheer awkwardness of sharing a house with the man who rejected him would kill him._

_Will stares down at him, considering. Frederick has never seen him act so bold. Wanting to get away from his gaze, Frederick leans forward, going for Will’s neck._

_Will allows it, tipping his head back, and sets a hand solidly on Frederick’s back. “Does this means you’ll let me have you?” he asks, quietly._

_Frederick closes his eyes and shudders. “Yes,” he nearly whispers, grateful that he manages to keep his mouth shut when he really want to say ‘anything you want’, and goes willingly when Will encourages him to lie back, flat on the bed._

_Will looms over him, on his hands and knees, still wearing his pants. Frederick reaches up and tugs him down, using his other hand to work at the button of his jeans. Getting the message, Will yanks them off and makes quick work of the rest of Frederick’s clothes as well._

_Frederick wraps one of his legs around Will’s hip, pulling him down and against him. Will groans, and uses the leverage to grind himself onto Frederick._

_“How do you like it?” Will asks, wrapping a hand around Frederick’s cock._

_Frederick lets out a choked moan. “Rough. As rough as I can stand it.”_

_Will doesn’t let him down._

***

After the trial had officially ended and Frederick was reinstated as director of the hospital, he claimed a conflict of interest with Hannibal Lector and leaves his therapy to others. No one challenges his claim. Hardly anyone bothers to speak with him at all. Occasionally, the ‘temporary replacement’ the board had found when he was ‘missing’ and then stayed on as vice-director stops by his office to consult, but only rarely. He has his own office down the hall, and no interest in getting to know the man whose job he’s planning to take. 

Frederick likes to think that the rest of his coworkers are attempting to be respectful of his space, giving him time. He doesn’t like to consider that maybe they just don’t know know how to deal with him after so many weeks of thinking him to be a killer. 

Sighing, Frederick gets up from his couch and makes his way into the kitchen, empty glass in hand. At his heels, Marjorie follows him, getting in the way and generally making a nuisance of herself. 

“Ah- dog, _no,_ ” he says, trying to sound stern. She just looks up at him, tongue rolling out of her mouth. She had been an impulse buy, sandy colored and of questionable breeding, born out of some desire to...what? Protect himself? 

Frederick frowns and deposits the glass in the sink, with the all the other dishes he’d been neglecting. Marjorie whines, and Frederick turns to her, avoiding looking at the counter top where the bodies had been. The cleaners had done an excellent job, of course, but he can’t pretend not to be affected. He still can’t bring himself to go into the basement. 

He absolutely refuses to sell the house. 

When Will told him that Hannibal had been caught, Frederick felt a tension leave him that he had carried for so long he forgot to notice it. Will had burst into the house, sending the dogs into a frenzy and scaring Frederick half to death. He practically jumped on Frederick, squeezing the feeling out of his shoulders he gripped him so tight. That had been weeks ago, and the last night Frederick spent in Will’s house. The tension had been creeping back up ever since. 

Dropping down into a kitchen chair, he holds out a hand for Marjorie to sniff before he pets her, remembering how Will’s dogs had preferred to be treated. 

“Good girl,” he mumbles, stroking her soft fur and thinking of Will’s dogs, who had been his constant companions for the weeks he spent in hiding. Annoying, smelly things. Will’s house really had been far too small to contain all seven of those dogs, especially since he kept to the first floor. 

Frederick’s house is at least three times the size of Will’s, and he can say without bragging that it is really much nicer. Cleaner. Better decorated. 

He stares down at the phone on the shining countertop and wonders what Will is even doing in his cramped, rustic house in the middle of nowhere. It’s Friday night, but can’t picture the other man going out. 

“He’s probably just sitting around, talking to his dogs,” Frederick says, smirking. He thinks that voice echoes against the white walls. At his feet, Marjorie blinks up at him.


	2. Slipping

_Will notices Frederick watching him from across to room on and off for the entire trial, and avoids his eyes every time. He isn’t sure what to do about people on the best of days, and the situation with Frederick is beyond his abilities. Frederick catches up with him during recess._

_“Will,” Frederick says, not quite warmly. “Ah- doing well?”_

_“Fine,” Will says, determinedly not looking at Frederick. “Uh, busy. With the trail, and everything.”_

_“Of course,” Frederick says, also seeming to avoid his eyes. “I am as well. I’m to be reinstated at the hospital, I’m sure you’ve heard,” he says, the old haughty confidence back in his voice. Will hadn’t heard, but he nods anyway._

_They’re standing in some adjunct hallway in the courthouse, a respectable amount of distance between them. Will shifts his weight, awkwardly._

_The last time he had seen Frederick had been the time he helped him move out of his house, after he had come home from finally catching Lector, after they had spent the morning having sex. That had been weeks ago._

_Will clears his throat. “So is your house, uh, better?”_

_Frederick glances over at him briefly. “Yes.”_

_“Glad to be home?” Will asks, just to have something to say. Of course he is, he could barely wait to get out of Will’s house the morning after Hannibal had been caught._

_Frederick leans away, gaze sharp. “Why shouldn’t I be?”_

_“What?” Will frowns, genuinely confused. Frederick’s shoulders drop, slightly. He gives Will an apologetic look that Will doesn’t understand._

_“Nothing,” Frederick answers, taking a step closer, bringing himself into Will’s personal space. “It’s just…” he trails off, eyes of Will’s mouth._

_Will turns to face him more fully, and find their faces closer than he’d thought. He looks at Frederick’s eyes, then his mouth, then his eyes again. All things considered, he wasn’t expecting Frederick to jerk away when Will leans in to kiss him._

_“I-” Will stammers, face red. “Sorry, I thought-”_

_Frederick all but slams into him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and nearly knocking him over. Will overbalances, and winds an arm around Frederick’s waist to keep standing._

_The kiss takes on the strained edge of desperation, both of them gripping the other with near painful intensity. Frederick kisses Will like he’s dying and Will lets him, urging him to lean against the wall. He shoves a leg between Frederick’s thighs, completely losing sight of where they are._

_A startled gasp echoes down the hallway and Will freezes, afraid to look. Frederick breaks away, turning his face away from the source of the sound, face burning._

_Will glances to the left, but only catches sight of the back of a retreating woman. “Well,” he says, as Frederick extricates himself from the embrace. “Uh, I’ll see you around?” Will tries, at a loss for what to say._

_Frederick lets out a harsh sound that Will supposes could pass for a laugh and stalks away._

***

At the sound of the first knock, Will just sits still, momentarily confused. Not many people visit him these days, and he’s barely been out of the house since the trial. The person at the door knocks again, and Will gets up, moving around to the window. It’s Alana.

He closes his eyes, considering what would happen if he just didn’t answer. Things between him and Alana were complicated at best, and downright antagonistic at worst. She hadn’t said two words to him at the trial. 

A sharp tap on the glass right in front of his face decides it for him. He opens his eyes to see Alana standing on the other side the window, one hand on her hip. “Let me in Will.” 

She has both of her eyebrows raised and an expression that says ‘I will break this window.’ He opens the door. 

Alana makes herself comfortable on his dirty sofa, stripping off her gloves and coat for the dogs to investigate. She lets them, turning her attention to Will. “So,” she says, looking up at him expectantly. 

Will lingers in the doorway, the dogs swirling around his feet. “So.” 

The side of her mouth twitches, like she reaching for a smile. “Before we get started I just want to say that I really don’t want to talk about Dr. Lecter, and I would like to leave your house today with us as friends.” She places her hands in her lap and waits, her expression open and relaxed.

Will can’t help but smirk. “I see.” He comes out of the doorway, picking his way over to the other couch. “Well, I agree and I agree.” 

Alana tilts her head, looking pleased. “Good. I would have come sooner, but I didn’t feel ready.”

“To see me?”

She averts her eyes. “To see anyone. I’ve been on personal leave.” 

Will nods, and pulls at a loose thread on his jeans. “So have I, in a manner of speaking.”

Alana turns her head back. “Yes. What are you planning to do now? I’ve been curious.” 

Will shrugs. “No idea.” 

She hums, and leans back against the couch. “Well then, what about you and Dr. Chilton?”

Will looks up, sharply. “What about us- him?” Will asks, embarrassment creeping into his voice. 

Alana laughs softly. “Will, if you didn’t want people to know, you shouldn’t have kissed him at a public trial.” 

“That’s...valid,” Will grinds out. “But it’s done anyway. It doesn’t matter.” He can feel Alana’s eyes on him, searching.

“What happened?” she asks, softly. 

Will stands up, annoyed. “Nothing, it just stopped. He was staying here, and when Han- things ended he left. Immediately.” 

“I see. You two didn’t talk about it?” Will shakes his head. Alana purses her lips. “Men have a certain… _tendency_ to...not-”

“Just say it Alana.” 

She fixes him with a look. “Men are idiots. Put two men together and expect them to navigate a relationship?” She shrugs. “Let’s just say that there’s a reason gay men keep so many female friends.” 

Will stares at her, eyes wide before he dissolves into laughter. He has to hold onto the wall for support. “Alana-” He gasps, struggling to breathe as he collapses down next to her on the couch. 

Alana grins at him. “It’s true!” she insists, actually smiling now. Will runs a hand through his hair, still chuckling. They settle down into companionable silence. After a few minutes, Alana breaks it.

“Do you miss him?”

Will looks at her. He shrugs. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

***

_Frederick wakes up slowly, becoming aware of Will wrapped around him tightly, his arm secured around his waist, and the remembering comes on like a creeping fog. The worry when Will didn’t come home, and didn’t come home, and still didn’t come home. Will waking him up at three in the morning. Telling him._

_Hannibal Lector is in custody._

_Frederick turns, thinking to wake Will up and demand specifics, and finds Will already looking back at him. It’s stupid, to think of being caught in someone’s gaze, but Frederick freezes anyway, eyes locked on Will’s._

_Will shifts up onto one elbow, and leans down to press his mouth against Frederick’s throat. Frederick shudders and slides a hand into Will’s hair, letting the sensation wash over him. Will breathes into the space around Frederick’s neck and shifts up again to look Frederick in the eye._

_“Ok?” Frederick asks, because it’s all he can manage._

_Will nods. “Overwhelmed, I think.”_

_Frederick reaches up to brush the hair from Will’s eyes. They usually avoid being so tender with each other, but this morning feels different. “Do you want to talk-”_

_“No,” Will says, firmly. “But I do want you.”_

_Frederick flushes and nods his consent as Will eases him out of his nightclothes. He rolls onto his side, facing away from Will as the other man rummages through the drawer. Will determinedly sets himself to the task of preparation, his movements quick and efficient. Frederick lies back and closes his eyes, letting himself be taken care of. There’s a giddiness in his chest, a lightness, that comes with the knowledge that he’s finally exonerated, he’s free. He smiles when Will presses a light kiss to his shoulder blade._

_Will is good at sex, probably because he can read his partner’s responses so well, and Frederick decided long ago that sometimes you allow yourself to just lie back and enjoy good things. Will is a very good thing._

_Satisfied with his work, Will presses himself against Frederick’s back, lining himself up. At the first push in, Frederick breathes out, trying to relax, and Will slides an arm around his stomach, holding him steady. “Alright?” Will asks, quietly._

_“Yes,” Frederick breathes, and sets his hand on top of Will’s._

_Will sets up a slow and steady rhythm, and stays pressed up against his back. It’s different, very different from all the other times. More intimate. Will is holding him differently, whispering in his ear._

_This is the last time, Frederick realizes with sudden clarity, and it hits him like a burst of cold water._

***

Not one person has asked Frederick about the missing weeks. He supposes that it really isn’t all that strange, those kind of questions usually come from close friends and family, which Frederick has none of. But still. Not one person. 

Absently tapping his pen against his desk, Frederick drifts in and out of focus, caught up in thinking about things that shouldn’t concern him while he’s at work. He glances over at the stack of papers on the corner of his desk that need his attention. He hasn’t gotten much done, though he doubts that anyone will call him out directly. 

Now that they’ve readjusted to his presence, everyone at the hospital seems determined to pretend that everything is normal. No one mentions the investigation, or the scar, or even asks him where he was. It’s...disconcerting to say the least. He’d almost rather they harassed him, or if Freddie Lounds would come to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong. 

For whatever reason, she doesn’t, and Frederick is left to process his own thoughts. Of course, he could call the one person who is sure to relate to his experience, but he refuses to give him the satisfaction of having Frederick run to him _again_. 

“Sir?” 

Frederick looks up and sees his secretary watching him from across the room. He can’t help but notice how far away she has placed herself. “Yes?” he answers, making the effort to give her his full attention. 

She shifts her weight to her other foot and avoids his eyes. “Mr. Harrison left another message.” 

Frederick tires not to glare at her, knowing that it isn’t her fault the board is trying to push him out the door. There have just been too many incidents. “Thank you,” he searches for her name but doesn’t find it. “I’ll call him.” 

She disappears, and he slumps down in his chair. “Fantastic,” he mutters, rubbing at his eyes. It bothers him to an extent that really doesn’t make sense considering the circumstances. Harrison and the rest of the board will promise him a good severance package, a good recommendation, and it’s not like anyone would question him leaving the hospital after everything that had occurred. 

Frederick leans back in his chair, waffling. He doesn’t want to stay, but hates the thought of being pushed out, nicely or not. The prospect of finding a new position, and possibly a new place to live, looms over him. Not for the first time in the past hour, he wishes he had someone to talk to about it. 

Feeling sorry for himself, he pulls out his phone and scrolls through the contacts, searching for what he knows is not there. If Will were with him, he would knock the phone from his hands and say something sarcastic about Frederick behaving like a teenage drama queen. 

Reaching the G’s, Frederick hovers over Will’s name, glaring accusingly at it. 

Will had been conspicuously absent from Frederick's life for weeks. They hadn’t even spoken since the trail. Annoyed, Frederick tires to scroll past it, accidentally pressing ‘call’ in the process. For a terrible second, he freezes, staring down at the phone, and fumbles to hang up. 

“Shit,” he mutters, shoving the phone into a drawer. “Just perfect.” The last things he wants is for Will Graham to see a missed call from him. Not after all this time. He rubs a hand over his face, trying to get a hold on himself. 

“Damn it.” He puts his head in his hands, trying to ignore the buzzing coming from the desk.


	3. Living

_“Uh- down dogs!” Frederick says, clearly trying and failing to sound stern as the dogs swarmed around him. Will smirks as he watches the scene from the kitchen._

_“You have to sound like you mean it,” he calls out, and Frederick turns his head. Will comes back into the room, drinks in hand. “And it would help if you didn’t sit on the floor with them.”_

_A dog crawls into his lap. Frederick leans away slightly but takes the drink Will offers him. “You do it.”_

_“Well I actually like the dogs,” Will says, sitting down next to him and picking Buster up and out of the other man’s lap._

_Frederick frowns and leans forward. “It’s not that I don’t like them-”_

_Will rolls his eyes. “It’s fine. Drink your tea.” Frederick shoots him an unimpressed look but complies, making a show of petting one of the dogs as he does it. Will hides a smile by taking a drink as well. The tea is pretty gross, but Frederick had asked for it specifically and Will had been noticing some of his darker moods cropping up lately._

_He isn’t sure why they bother him so much, if anything they make his home life more peaceful because Frederick doesn’t complain as much, but they bother him deeply. He doesn’t like to see Frederick so depressed._

_He seems fine now, talking away while Will pretends to listen. “I was in the basement, which by the way is disgusting, and-”_

_Suddenly, Will finds himself leaning forward, and kissing him. Frederick blinks, taken off guard, but kisses him back. It only lasts for a second, then Will leans back._

_Frederick is staring at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Will…”_

_Will jumps up. “I’ll make dinner,” he says, heart pounding inexplicably. Frederick doesn’t follow him._

***

Will sits in his beat up old car at the base of Frederick’s driveway, having an internal argument over whether or not he should get out or drive away. He runs a hand through his hair, which is starting to get long again now that he’s not putting on airs for Hannibal Lecter. He’s been there for ten minutes, and has so far turned his car on and off twice. 

Just as he decides for the third time that he can’t actually do this, it’s too much social pressure and he just needs to go back to being a motor-fixing hermit, he spots Frederick standing in one of the windows. Will freezes like an animal in a trap, alarmed to be caught. Frederick disappears from the window, but then the front door opens and he’s heading down the driveway. 

“Well that decides that,” Will mutters, embarrassed, as he gets out of the car. He meets Frederick about halfway up the driveway and stands there, hands in his jacket pockets and trying to look as normal as possible.

“Uh,” he says, glancing around. “Hi Frederick.” 

Frederick looks about the same as he always has, though he’s a bit thinner. His hair is cut, his clothes are perfect. Will doesn’t usually feel underdressed around anyone, because usually he just doesn't care, but this is not a typical situation for him. 

Frederick seems torn between glaring and laughing. “Are you- what are you _doing_ here Will?” 

Will fights the urge to shrug. “I came to see you,” he answers simply, and half hopes that Frederick will send him away. The other part of him really hopes that he does. 

“Well, come in then,” Frederick says, confusion evident in his voice. Evidently politeness has won out over awkwardness. He turns and starts walking back up the driveway without waiting for a response. Will notices that he isn’t wearing any shoes and smiles. 

The inside of Frederick’s house is just as nice as the exterior. It also doesn’t particularly seem like anyone actually lives there, all white walls and furniture that must have come from catalogues. Will studies the rooms they pass through, considering the man that arranged them. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Frederick calls, and Will realizes that he’d gotten a room ahead of him. 

“Water,” he answers, even though he’d prefer something much stronger. He’s trying to stop day drinking so much. He follows Frederick into the kitchen, which is just as stark white and empty as the rest of the house. 

Frederick is busying himself with getting the water and avoiding Will’s eyes. Will sits at the counter. “How have you been?” 

“Fine. Good.” Frederick hands him the glass but doesn’t sit down. “And yourself?” 

Fine,” Will says, dryly. They lapse into silence. Will drinks his water and waits, knowing that Frederick is more uncomfortable with awkwardness. He’s right.

“Why are you here?” Frederick asks, frowning. “I haven’t heard from you.” 

Will raises an eyebrow. Apparently they aren’t going to talk about Frederick ducking his calls. “I heard that you’re leaving the hospital.” 

Frederick looks away, annoyed. “Not from me you didn’t.”

“From Alana.” 

Frederick huffs out a harsh laugh. “I see.” 

“Is it true?” Will asks, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees. Getting into Frederick’s space. 

Frederick glares at him. “What does it matter?” 

“It matters to me,” Will says, evenly. Frederick draws away from him, physically leaning farther back, and Will reminds himself not to have fights instead of conversations. Especially not this one. He forces himself to relax and tries again. “It matters to me, because at the very least I had hoped to consider you a friend, Frederick.” 

He waits from Frederick to process this time, calmly drinking the water as Frederick mulls this over. Finally Frederick looks at him again. “Can we talk in the other room? I don’t like to spend a lot of time...here.” 

Will blinks, confused until he remembers that Hannibal had staged bodies in Frederick’s kitchen. He jumps up, spilling water on himself. “Damn-” 

Frederick leans away from him, looking affronted. “Will?” 

“It’s fine, let’s go.” He walks off, taking the lead even though he has no idea where he’s going. Frederick half walks, half jogs after him. Will enters into a space that he figures is supposed to be a living room, except that it doesn’t look like anyone actually _lives_ there. 

“Uh, here is fine,” Frederick says, looking at him nervously. 

Will settles himself on the seriously white and uncomfortable couch and looks up at Frederick who is still hovering awkwardly. He opens his mouth to speak, but gets distracted by a flash of movement in the corner of his eye. He turns his head and Frederick blushes. 

“Oh that’s-” Will is already up and over by the glass door, squatting down to get a better look at the dog. 

“What’s his name?” Will asks, resisting the urge to let the dog in the house without permission. 

“Marjorie. She’s a girl,” Frederick says, opening the door. 

Will smiles, starting to relax for the first time since pulling into Frederick’s driveway. “She’s beautiful.” 

Frederick clears his throat, visibly embarrassed. “Thank you.” He’s studying the blank walls of his own house. Will feels a burst of affection for this ridiculous and awkward man. 

“So, I came here for a reason,” Will says, standing up. The dog stays by him, looking up at him happily. 

“You did?” Frederick looks at him, finally. 

“I have a proposal,” Will makes himself say, committing to his stupid plan. “You’re leaving the hospital, and there’s nothing left for me here. I think we should leave together.” 

Frederick stares, saying nothing. Surprisingly, Will doesn’t feel discouraged. “You don’t have to say anything now, but look, we already lived together, we both hate it here, and I don’t-” He stops, glancing down at the dogs, who is staring up at him with the empty dog expression. He reminds himself that he faced down a serial killer and swallows his pride. “I don’t want to be alone anymore, and I think you don’t either.” 

Frederick blinks, slowly, like a stall for time. Will looks away to give him a moment to process. “You-” Frederick starts, then stops again. Will pets the dog. “You’re kidding.” Frederick manages finally, frowning. 

Will shrugs. He doesn’t look up. “Not that I’m aware of.” 

Frederick laughs, sounding legitimately scared. Will can relate. “But we aren’t even...what? Boyfriends?” he asks, sarcasm plain in his tone. 

_Fear makes you rude Will._

Will looks up. “I don’t know why you left,” he says calmly, but Frederick cuts him off. 

“Oh you don’t?” Frederick asks, disbelieving. “You don’t know that I could tell you wanted me gone? Not even with all your _empathy?_ ” He puts his hands up and starts to leave the room. Will stares after him, trying to tamp down his rising anger. 

“Frederick…” He follows him deeper into the house, Marjorie on his heels. 

“No, you know what? You go.” Frederick calls over his shoulder. “I don’t need this.” 

Will throws up his hands. “Need what? Me here, admitting that I want you in my life? Well sorry, fine! Fuck you too!” He’s yelling now, and it’s like watching himself from the outside, unable to stop it. Marjorie whines. 

Frederick draws back like he’d been slapped. “Will…” he says, softly. Will waits, but he doesn’t say anything else. 

“Fine,” Will says, and walks off, towards the front door. Frederick doesn’t call him back. The dog follows him though, which kind of makes him feel better. Then it makes him feel bad for Frederick. 

Will stands there, hand on the doorknob, for an unbearably long five minutes, waiting for Frederick to come try and stop him from driving away. He doesn’t. Which Will should really know isn’t something he would do. “Dammit,” Will says, letting go of the door, which he had actually opened, and walks back into the house. “Dammit, dammit.” 

Frederick is still in that same nearly empty room, sitting on the couch with his head resting on the back. He’s staring up at the ceiling. Will stands in the doorway, frowning. Eventually, when Frederick still doesn’t notice him he clears his throat. “Frederick.” 

He jumps spectacularly. “Jesus- Will?” He puts a hand on his chest, eyes wide. “You’re still here?” 

“Yeah, listen Frederick,” Will says, shifting his weight. “I didn’t mean to get into a fight with you. If you want me to leave I will so just tell me without fighting if you want that.” 

Frederick stares at him, still hunched over on the couch. “No.” 

Will glances around. “No you don’t want me to leave?” 

“Right,” Frederick stands up, looking painfully awkward. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, Will. I don’t know why you put up with me.” 

“Well, I could probably say the same,” Will says, trying to smile. “I just, I think we’ve done a lot of this backwards.” 

Frederick raises an eyebrow. “You think?” 

Will laughs, a little easier this time. “I might be over thinking this, but I just wanted to-”

“I thought you were going to kick me out.” 

Will blinks. “What?”

“The day after you caught Hannibal. We woke up and you were behaving so differently...I thought you were getting rid of me so I left,” Frederick says, a pained expression developing on his face. It makes his face look all pinched. “I don’t usually...get in deep with people.” 

Will shrugs, leaning down to pet Marjorie. “Neither do I. But I also didn’t used to look people in the eye, so.” 

Frederick laughs. “Let’s talk, Will.”


End file.
